top of page

The mountains are calling - poem


Green background with a cream line drawing of mountains, trees, the moon, stars and small campfire. Underneath the illustration is cream handwritten text that reads "indoorsy more often than not".

The mountains are calling,

I cannot return.

The longing inside,

It feels like a burn.


It's hot and it's fiery,

It's angry you see.

Claustrophobic and stuffy,

An urge to burst free.


Everything's too close,

The horizon too far.

I know that it's out there,

Just where others are.


This distance is different,

To the one that they sense.

Theirs is expansive,

Mine feels like offence.


I don't get to see it,

Just through my phone.

Someone else's viewpoint,

Or the one from their drone.


I'm grateful they film it,

But it isn't the same.

The longing remains,

Doesn't dampen the flame.


I sit and I watch,

It all feels too passive.

I want to explore,

This world it is massive.


They say you feel small,

Out there in the wild.

Smaller than this?

I feel like a child.


I crave independence,

To go where I please.

Watch the world from a height,

I'm down on my knees.


My instincts are caged,

They long for an echo.

A connection with land,

As I sit by my window.

Comments


This Thing They Call Recovery logo featured on multicoloured background
bottom of page